


Bloody Ballgowns

by Joyxx9199



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, BAMF Charlie Weasley, BAMF Harry, BAMF Hermione Granger, Dark, Dark Character, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, Dark Past, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/M, Good Slytherins, M/M, Multi, Other, Political Alliances, Political Campaigns, Politics, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Purebloods (Harry Potter), Rich Harry, Slytherin, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Politics, Slytherin Pride, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyxx9199/pseuds/Joyxx9199
Summary: Bailey Ravenclaw, tired of hiding from her own father, discovers her heritage and finds a way to make her way to Britain, with one goal: to upset the pureblood political society. Befriending Harry and Hermione was a good idea until they are sorted into Slytherin together. Assisted by her twin brother, who lives in her head, she keeps her darker tendencies in check, in an effort to save her political face.Is the enemy the one everyone seems to think it is? Maybe not. The one who spends his time manipulating for his own gain, unconsidering of anyone else is far worse than the one who seeks power for what he believes in.It's up to them to wade through the politics of Magical Britain, presenting the perfect public appearance while battling the so-called light from behind the scenes. Because in some cases, maybe the dark side is the free side.Camp NaNo project*Only mildly edited- Not final draft level*





	1. Discovery and Preperations

Chapter 1- Arrival and Discovery  
A man was running, sprinting through the streets of Los Angeles. The sun was setting, casting a long shadow as he ran. Behind him, three people were chasing him, matching his pace step for step, slowly gaining due to the large case the man was carrying as he ran. He turned down a dark alley, sprinting as fast as he could when suddenly a small figure dashed out from behind a dumpster. Even as he tried to change direction at a full sprint, the little girl had grabbed him around the waist, and with a familiar sensation of being squashed through a tube, they appeared in a hedged courtyard. A wooden swing in the center, with roses climbing over the posts, it appeared to be a classy courtyard, similar to what one might find behind the massive gates of the filthy rich. Before he had a chance to look around, he was pulled to the side by the girl that had just saved him.  
“Hurry up, we can't be seen,” The girl said, beckoning him into a small tunnel into the hedge.  
She was no more than eleven, dark blue hair falling to her waist, so dark it looked like black if it hadn’t been for his expert eyes, trained to notice subtle nuances such as this.  
“Where are we? Who can't we be seen by?” He asked, even as the girl grabbed him by the hand and dragged him quickly into the tunnel.  
“Wait,” was the girls only response.  
She led him through the hedge tunnel, reaching a staircase that led straight down. The leaves above him cast eerie green shadows that seemed to slither back and forth in the light breeze.  
“How did you apparate? You can't be old enough to have learned legally?”  
He was in the mood to gain answers, and he had decided since he had no other options but to follow the girl, he would ask until he gained them. It wasn’t smart to follow the girl, but she had just saved him, and he supposed that whatever she had planned would at least delay his punishment, if at all. A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it was dangerous, that he should go back and deal with the government, as they at least would be held accountable for their actions, but his urge for adventure combatted this, and he continued behind the girl further down the staircase.  
The walls were of a rough stone, lit by floating slightly blue-tinted orbs above them. The stairs were steep, and as he went down, he tried to avoid thinking of the amount of stone above them. Small spaces had never been his thing, much preferring the open fields he was used to. They went down the stairs, finally ending at a set of dark double doors. The girl opened them to reveal a massive room, a library. The shelves reached up nearly to the top of the high ceiling, and the room was brightly lit with more of those floating orbs. The floor was covered in a thick deep blue carpet. The walls were hung with tapestries, depicting various forest and mountain scenes. As he was led around the edge of the room, he focused on the tapestries. Each one depicted an independent scene, one of a flowing river, one of the ocean, the waves crashing on the beach silently. The man was impressed. Tapestry magic was one of the hardest types of magic, as it involved control over each individual thread. It was why many opted for paintings, over tapestries.  
He was led to an armchair, a small table next to it, in the corner of the room. The room was huge, he realized, as they had walked quite a distance before reaching this corner. The girl indicated for him to sit down, and he did so, keeping his case close to his feet. She reached backward, her eyes never leaving the man, and a similar armchair slid over from an unseen point in the shelves. The man wondered to himself whether it was a wandless summoning charm, or if it was the chairs themselves that were enchanted.  
“Ask your questions,” The girl said, crossing her arms across her chest. She was dressed in muggle jeans and a dark grey T-shirt.  
“Who are you?” He figured it was better to start simple.  
“Who are you?” The girl asked in return.  
“You’re the one that saved me, shouldn’t I find out first?”  
“Well, I need to be sure I saved the right guy,” The girl scoffed.  
“My name is Charlie Weasley, dealer of illegal magical creatures, dragon specialist.” He conceded to her, too desperate for answers to argue.  
“So I did save the right dude.” She remarked casually.  
“Now who are you? Where are we? Why did you save me?” Charlie asked the questions rapidly, not giving her a chance to respond.  
“One at a time. I’m Bailey Ravenclaw, I’m sure you might know me better as the Ramsey heiress, the tragic daughter that disappeared as her father gambled away the family fortune after the untimely death of her mother. You are in the only safe portion of the Ramsey Estate, the library, only accessible by those in the direct Maternal line of Ravenclaw. I saved you because I think you can help me, and you will, as I just saved you.”  
Charlie paused to process the information. Of course, he knew the story of the Ramseys, one of the oldest Wizarding families in the Americas, and their fall from power after the death of the late Lady Ramsey, but he had trouble connecting it to the remainder of her statements.  
“Ravenclaw?”  
“Yes. The line transferred to the Americas centuries ago changed our name, and hid.”  
“How has this information never came to light?”  
“It was hidden from us, I only recently discovered my true lineage when I discovered this library,”  
“What’s up with the library?”  
“It is hidden by the Family Magics, traveling with wherever the Ravenclaws are, and only accessible by those in the Maternal line.”  
Satisfied by the story, for now, Charlie decided to satisfy his other questions before getting distracted, even if it was for something as monumental as this.  
“So why was it so important we hide as soon as we arrive if we’re on the Ramsey Estates?”  
“Because my father is somewhere, likely drunk off his ass, looking for something to hit.”  
Charlie gaped. The prior information had been revolutionary, but he was much more focused on the information he had just gained.  
“He beats you?”  
“He beats anything that moves and spends all his time either drunk or so high he can't function. Or gambling. That’s how I discovered my heritage and this library.“  
Charlie was shocked at the casualness the girl had towards such an issue.  
“How long has this been going on?”  
“I discovered the library when I was five. Since then, I practically live here. I spend the rest of my time hanging around Silverstone street. That’s how I heard about you.”  
“Silverstone street isn’t a nice place to hang around,” Charlie was genuinely concerned for the young girl. Silverstone street was roughly the Wizarding LA equivalent of Knockturn Alley, but much worse.  
“It's a place where I can pickpocket without anyone noticing. I also hang around some parts of No-Maj LA, but it's harder to hide there.”  
“But- how do you survive like this?”  
Bailey's face hardened, obviously displeased with the direction the questioning had turned. “That’s enough questions for now, will you help me?”  
Charlie said yes before he had thought about it, so moved by the young girl’s troubles to think about how much he was risking by agreeing to help her. He had no idea what the girl wanted. The voice inside his head cursed him, but he ignored it, telling himself it was obvious the girl needed help.  
“Excellent, now may I have you sign a Magical Contract to not reveal anything spoken of in this library to anyone?”  
“A Magical Contract?” Charlie faltered, this was a huge request, as it involved a form of binding the signer’s magic to the terms of the contract.  
“We can work out the details another time, just in general. When I get to Britain, I plan to join the political scene, and I have to be careful with how I work the situation. The return of a Sacred house is no trivial matter.”  
“When you get to Britain?”  
“Yes, I need your help in getting to Britain and your help in learning to present myself in pure-blood society.”  
“I’m- I’m not sure that I’m the best candidate for that,” Charlie admitted. The Weasley’s were one of the biggest blood-traitor families, and despite heading to ‘Romania’ to avoid associating with the name too much, he still wasn’t well versed in the details of the matter.  
“You can get illegal animals all over the world, you have the connections necessary to get me to Britain. I need information on the political situations, as this library, while self-updating, is roughly 10-15 years behind politically.”  
“Why politics?” Charlie asked before he could stop himself. He had spent years avoiding politics, despite knowing that as the second son, he could claim the Prewett house as his own, a house more Ancient than even the Weasley’s, and a way to escape the blood-traitor title, with some work. Politics was never his calling, preferring instead to work with magical creatures, particularly dragons, though he dealt with many other dangerous animals. His primary job was moving them internationally, and selling them.  
“Simple. Power and Prestige.” The girl's response was far too casual for Charlie’s liking, and despite knowing she was a Ravenclaw, he had a fleeting idea that she was a Slytherin. That was the image presented by her statement at least. He scolded himself in his head again, for falling into such shallow stereotypes, such as those he hated when people judged him for his family.  
Charlie thought for a second, thinking of the girl’s circumstances, the uproar her appearance would inspire back in Britain, and her obviously highly advanced magic, remembering the way she had apparated the two of them midair. Her advanced claim on magic was likely due to living in a magical, self-updating library he supposed. The library was no doubt full of every type of magic ever discovered, as, if what she said was true, which he suspected it was, the library of a Ravenclaw, would be.  
“Where do we begin?” He asked with a sinister smile. It was time to send the entirety of wizarding Europe into chaos, and he decided he would be proud of helping cause this total political takeover she was planning. 

7 months later

Bailey strode into the bank with a sense of purpose. She had changed into the only set of robes she could afford with the rest of her savings, bought from a second-hand shop, though judging by the threadbare quality they had it had passed through at least three different people’s homes. They were black, with a fraying hem, and threadbare patches where they had been magically repaired many times. She made up for the robes with her attitude though. She held her head high, all too aware of the lack of money in her pocket as she passed by richly dressed witches and wizards, all too focused on their money to notice her lack of. She approached the first goblin behind a counter not actively weighing large piles of gold or gems.  
“I’d like to make a claim to a lost house,” she stated firmly.  
It wouldn’t be as easy as she hoped though, as the goblin stared down his hooked nose with a distinct look of disgust on his face. The look she was so used to seeing, that ignited a cold fury in her heart. It said clearly, ‘You’re just a poor little girl.’  
She kept her face blank however, using the tactics Charlie had taught her while he stayed at the library with her in between shipping runs. He was a surprisingly powerful wizard, much higher than would be expected, what with how his family presented itself. She had made the right decision in recruiting him she felt, it had been quite simple to swoop in and ‘save him’ from the oh-so-anonymous tip to MACUSA agents. Hanging around Silverstone Street, near invisible and always ignored in the back corners of bars, she could hear a lot of secrets.  
“Do you have any proof of your lineage?” The goblin sneered.  
“I do,” Bailey responded.  
“May I see it?”  
“I’d much prefer speaking to a representative of the bank,”  
She would not give him the satisfaction of making a scene, despite his very obvious disrespect. He assumed that she hadn’t researched how to make a claim to a house, and he was very wrong. With Charlie's help and the help of her library, she had researched nearly everything having to do with Wizarding politics and pureblood customs. Weeks of etiquette training, learning to dance, learning everything a pureblood heiress should know, it had all been torture. Even the tests on pureblood culture and Wizarding laws had been horrible, memorizing old laws, written in flowery language, and as to write laws like that, blocking off loopholes and phrasing things to allow certain things to be done, it had been mind-numbing. Charlie had taken to joking about how despite being a Ravenclaw, she hated to study.  
“Am I not a representative in your eyes?” The goblin said snidely.  
“You are not displaying the proper credentials, as all representatives are required to do,”  
She had checked, very carefully to make sure he wasn’t wearing the badge of a house representative. The house representatives were under strict magical oaths to keep family secrets and such, as the ancient treaty from the founders time had instructed when the goblins were assigned to protect the wizards gold, and to involve themselves as a neutral party in Wizarding politics. They controlled ancestry, and house mapping, along with working closely in business ventures and estate workings.  
“Is that so,” He glared at her. He turned around, blatantly ignoring her, attempting to tell her that the conversation was over. As he picked up a glittering tiara from a pile of riches on the counter behind, and an eyepiece, Bailey interjected loudly.  
“I do not appreciate being treated as such, and I am not above speaking to your superiors,” The tone of her voice, combined with the threat was enough to encourage the goblin to change his mind and decide to fetch someone qualified to help her.  
He glared at her as he spoke venomously.  
“Wait on those benches please,” gesturing at a set of marble benches at the far end of the hall.  
“I think I am comfortable waiting here for an official to escort me to a claiming office thank you.”  
The goblin muttered something likely very rude under his breath, but her threat to fetch his superiors had done its work and he shuffled off.

Bailey took the time to look around the bank properly. The marble building was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, likely due to some relaxed laws encouraged by a large amount of money stored under her feet. The Ministry was notorious for being easily bribed, and it seemed that being bribed by goblins was no exception. Both sides of the hall were inhabited by long counters, and goblins were busy behind them, talking to various customers, weighing stacks of gold or precious gems, and examining various pieces of jewelry or other expensive looking things through eyepieces. Along the back wall were 3 sets of iron lifts, every few seconds clanking their way up to receive goblins and the occasional accompanying witch or wizard visiting their vaults. Next to the lifts were the marble benches the goblin had directed her to, sitting in front of a large wooden door, with a golden plaque on it. Bailey couldn’t make out the words from such a distance but she suspected it led to the house offices.  
Every Wizarding family had an office, and a goblin assigned to help deal with their finances and properties. The larger and older the house, the larger the amount of gold and political stocks owned, and the higher the level of goblin assigned. It was rumored that the ancient and most noble houses, such as those on the sacred 28 of pureblood families, and a few lucky others that despite not being on the list had gained a good reputation for their blood status, along with large amounts of money, had goblins whose only jobs were to manage their finances. This rumor would never be proved; any family with enough money to have this be true would, of course, be secretive enough that the general public would never find out, but Bailey suspected its truth. If her plan worked properly, however, she would soon find out. She suspected that if the other part of her plan worked, and she convinced Charlie to take control of the Prewett house, he too would find out. The Sacred 28, the supposedly pureblood families, were known as Most Ancient and Noble Houses, with some of the even older houses known as Most Sacred and Ancient of Noble Houses. It was slightly ironic that not all of the sacred 28 were considered Sacred houses, but it had been named years ago, and nobody had bothered to change it. At the time, there were six claimed Sacred houses. The Ravenclaw house would be the 7th. The significance of being the seventh Sacred house was not lost on Bailey, who had been pleased to find this out. There were close to 50 active Ancient and Noble houses, and nearly 70 Noble houses, all of which worked together or against each other politically.  
Houses were ranked based on their age, with wealth and blood-purity contributing to the further rankings. It was a complex process to understand the levels of the houses, and even deeper to understand who should be subservient to who, such as how an heir was below an heiress, unless the heiress in question belonged to a Maternal line, Houses where family magic and control of the house fell along the females of the line rather than the males. Then it became even more complicated, Ancient rules dictating how the lineages within a house would fall. Some houses relied on how the genetic magic fell to dictate the hierarchy within the family. Many houses hid these genetic powers, considering them part of the Family Magic, and as such, family secrets. From her extensive research, Bailey had found only 2 instances of when those powers were made public, and both so well hidden, they could not be public knowledge. The mess of pureblood families made it even harder to pinpoint the exact lines powers manifested into, but she had discovered the Rosier family produced the greatest number of metamorphmagi, and the Gaunts had the ability to speak Parseltongue. Bailey herself was a metamorphmagus, a gift from the maternal aspect of her line, so she figured that the powers were not unique to the hoses, merely heavily separated.  
Charlie had hated learning the ways each person was subservient to the others, as the complex ancient rules were circular and confusing, but she had insisted. Treating someone who was above you as below you could have many serious effects on one’s family, and it was possibly one of the hardest things in pureblood culture to understand. Many of the more political families had their children learning all of this from birth, but she and Charlie had slaved for months to learn all of it in a matter of months.  
She was startled out of her musings by the return of the first goblin, now accompanied by another goblin, this one in a set of green robes, a stark contrast to the black of the first goblin. More importantly, this goblin was proudly displaying a badge of a blank crest on his chest, the symbol of a certified house goblin.  
“I can escort you to a claiming office madam,”  
“Thank you, sir, it is much appreciated,” she responded sweetly, ignoring the daggers the other goblin was glaring at her.  
Bailey followed the goblin to the door in the rear of the hall, confirming her earlier idea of what the door was for as she read the plaque.  
House Affairs  
Diagon alley Branch  
The door opened to reveal a long hallway, lined with doors on either side. Each door had a bronze plaque on it, emblazoned with a name, but before she had a chance to examine them, she was led into one of the first rooms, a room with no label on the door. The room was sparsely decorated, with white walls and a dark green carpet. The only furniture was a large desk in the center of the room, with identical chairs on either side and a wooden cabinet behind the desk. She sat opposite the goblin, shifting her chair slightly so she could still see the door behind her.  
“Now you claim to have a connection to an existing house?” The goblin began stiffly, obviously eager to get the meeting over with.  
“No sir, I am here to claim a lost house,” The goblin seemed surprised for a second to hear such an unusual request.  
“Are you aware that should your lineage not be sufficient you are required to pay a fee to the bank for the attempt to restore a lost house?”  
“I am aware, and I am prepared for such, if necessary,” she lied. She hadn’t known that but was unsurprised to find out. It was lucky she was confident in her family though, as she had spent her last sickle on the set of robes she was currently wearing. Charlie had money, but she had refused to take any of it, preferring to take what was left of the Ramsey family fortune back in America and leave her father bankrupt there.  
“Well let us begin then, what house are you seeking to claim?”  
“The Most Sacred and Ancient of Noble Houses Ravenclaw,”  
It was a testament to the goblins level of professionalism that he did no more than flinch. His entire face blanched, however. Bailey was no fool, and she had felt the wards on the room. They ensured that she was entirely serious about her request, and was not merely attempting to play a practical joke on the bank in some decidedly untasteful way. The wards functioned similarly to a modified form of veritaserum she had decided. They held no threat, however, as the wards also prohibited family secrets from leaving, and there was no doubt the goblin was also under several vows of secrecy, as per regulation.  
“The House of Ravenclaw?” His voice shook slightly as he attempted to process her words.  
“Yes sir, and I am prepared with detailed family lineage maps,”  
“I-I…” The goblin was left speechless. The claiming of lost houses was unusual, but not rare, but usually restricted to Noble houses. A lost Ancient and Noble House being claimed was enough to set the political science into an uproar. A Sacred House being claimed was unheard of. From Bailey's research, the last time a Sacred house was majorly affected was the ending of the Gaunt line. As they were not a politically active house, however, it had been mostly ignored by the public.  
“I am also willing to submit to a blood test as sufficient proof to the bank.” Her continued professionalism seemed to snap the goblin out of his shock.  
“Right, that will be necessary in this case I believe,”  
“Here are the linkage maps,” She reached into her robes and produced a roll of slightly crumpled parchment. The goblins hands were shaking as she passed them over, and he shuddered slightly as he felt the heavily charmed parchment that helped prove its validity.  
“The bank will provide you with additional copies and take the originals for our records if that is okay,” He said, falling into a heavily practiced speech.  
“Perfectly so,”  
“Now for the blood test, I suppose,”  
“I assume this room has the necessary protections to ensure that it is protected?” She knew it did, but it was smart to make sure. Blood magic was a nasty thing when used against someone.  
“Yes ma’am, it does,”  
“Let us proceed then,”  
The goblin turned around and with a single long finger unlocked the cabinet. He placed a stone bowl upon the desk, every inch of the bowl, inside and out covered in complicated chained runes. The goblin clicked his fingers and a plain silver dagger appeared beside it.  
“Is the dagger necessary?” Bailey had to trust the bank with the blood to claim her ancestry but would attempt to keep as many variables as safe as possible. Getting someone’s blood could be used for many many things, and she didn’t want any of them to be used on her.  
“A personal knife may be used if so wished,”  
Bailey pulled a basic dagger from her robes, and with a grimace sliced across her palm, allowing the blood to flow freely into the bowl. The goblin stopped her when he deemed it a necessary amount, and traced over the still bleeding cut with one finger, sealing the cut behind it. Not fully healed by any means, it was still a polite gesture, a sign of respect she realized.  
“Thank you,” she said, wiping the blade on the inside of her robes and stashing it again.  
The goblin was no longer paying attention to her, however, focusing on the bowl. The runes visible were glowing, the light coming together above the bowl to form a ghostly image. As it glowed stronger, the blood turned black, and the image cleared to reveal, floating above the now dark bowl, the Ravenclaw crest. Bailey merely looked on, pleased, while the goblin sank heavily onto the chair. He was pale and his hands shook.  
“Its- it’s true… he finally focused on Bailey's face. You’re the Ravenclaw heiress. How is such a thing possible?”  
“I can give an official recollection of my family’s unknown history later on to the Gringotts record keeper,” she responded. She decided to overlook the unprofessional actions of the goblin. He was nearing shock, and she felt sorry for the creature.  
The Ravenclaw crest had been fading as they spoke, and now it had completely faded away, the goblin seemed to recover his senses.  
“Of course, we will need official statements and you need to discuss the political situation of your house, as well as deal with the long unchecked Ravenclaw fortune, properties, and business ventures.”  
“Of course, and I am prepared for all of this today.”  
“I can bring you to your offices now, and we will assign a goblin to assist you immediately.”  
He rounded the desk, banishing the bowl with a wave of his hand. He led her down the hallway, past all the doors. They reached the end of the hallway in silence, where a golden lift sat in place of a back wall. They entered and the loft automatically began going down. It passed floor after floor, each opening throwing a beam of light into the lift before it abruptly passed and another came up. Bailey found herself counting as they went, 1, 2, 3… they stopped finally at the 7th floor. She has led down the hallway again. Similar to the hallway they had just left, it was long and lined with doors on either side. The plaques on these doors were golden, however, and lined with a layer of dust.  
“In the future, you will be able to go directly to the Ravenclaw offices, once you have been keyed to the wards,” her companion explained, “the offices are organized by age, and many down this far have been lost.  
Lost houses are very rarely claimed. The only other houses on this level belong to the oldest of the sacred 28, but the Ravenclaw offices are passed even those.”  
They reached a door near the end of the hallway as he spoke. The plaque on the door appeared to be solid gold, and in elegant script, claimed:  
The Most Sacred and Ancient of Noble Houses  
Ravenclaw  
Bailey entered the room alone, the goblin going to fetch the other goblins necessary to complete the process of instating her as a house head. It was noticeably much nicer than the claiming office that she had just left. The floor was carpeted in a thick rich royal blue, and the walls were a pale blue. There was a desk in the center of the room, just like the other room, but this desk was a thick mahogany one, the Ravenclaw crest embossed just slightly into the wood. The back wall, behind the desk, had a large cabinet in the center, a vase of dead roses on top of it. On either side of this cabinet were bookshelves, filled with ancient looking books. Both the cabinet and the shelves were of the same dark mahogany as the desk. As Bailey rounded the desk to sit in the ornate chair behind it, her attention was drawn to the portrait hanging above the door. It was of a young girl, beautiful, but crying silently as she looked at Bailey. Bailey recognized her instantly, however, and her voice echoing in the silent room called out to her.  
“Helena,”  
“It- it worked then,” The portraits voice broke as she asked the question that had been nagging at her mind for centuries.  
“It did. It worked perfectly,” replied Bailey, smiling at the figure.  
“And we’re still pure?”  
“We are,”  
“Thank you,” still crying, she left the portrait, likely to go tell of her success.  
Bailey was spared from lack of something too. Just as the portrait left, the door opened, revealing two goblins. Both wearing purple robes, they gaped at her as they sat in front of the desk, another chair having automatically popped into existence. Both seemed still surprised to see her.  
“I am Korag, the head of the Gringotts Ancestral Records and History division,” the one on the left introduced himself.  
“And I am Bargit, assigned Goblin of the Ravenclaw house,” The one on the right introduced himself.  
“Nice to meet you both,”  
“We need you to make an official statement, telling of the history of your house, for the public records,” said Korag, positioning himself with a quill and a piece of parchment.  
“I will tell all, under the condition that this is held from the press until the end of summer galas,” Bailey leaned back in her chair.  
“That is an acceptable request, that is granted under our ability to withhold information such as this for up to 6 months,” said Korag, making a note on the parchment.  
“If I may, does this request further a desire for you to be willing to place the Ravenclaw house back into politics?” Interjected Bargit, with a ferocious gleam in his eye.  
“It does, yes,” replied Bailey, already deciding she was happy with the goblin assigned to her. A politically minded goblin could help her greatly.  
“Excellent, please, continue as you were,” said Bargit, satisfied.  
“From the beginning then?” Asked Bailey.  
“Yes please,” said Korag.  
Bailey launched into the story that she had found in the library. She had it memorized since first setting foot into the magnificent magical library, recognizing it as her ancestry, she had read it from the book of Ravenclaw, one of the most sacred of the Ravenclaw books. It was the first of the books of Family Magics, and the only book another was allowed to read. Family works were generally heavily protected, being the very identity of a house.  
“It is traditionally said that Helena Ravenclaw stole her mother’s diadem and fled to avoid discovery. That much is true, as is that a man, the bloody baron, desperately in love with her was sent after her, as per her mother’s request to see her daughter once more before her death. Upon Helena’s refusal to return home, she was stabbed in a rage. When the bloody baron realized he had just killed the woman he loved he killed himself and they wander the halls of Hogwarts together. But the missing part of the story is that once she had run away, Helena met a man. Mere days before the bloody baron visited her, she had given birth to a daughter. She had news of the baron coming to bring her back to her mother, and she hid the diadem and sent her newborn daughter and her lover away. They fled across the sea to the Americas, and the Ravenclaw name has been passed down matriarchally for centuries. Helped in part due to the greater division between no-majs — muggles— and the magical, the Ravenclaw line has stayed pure blooded. The lineage has been traced all the way down, following the name Ramsey, passed through the women in the family still. Upon discovering my heritage, I have returned to claim my house, and to return to the political world here in Europe.”  
Korag looked up as she finished the story. He had written every word down as she spoke, and appeared satisfied.  
“That does seem plausible, following the legend, but why have you returned to Europe now? You are 12 correct? Is that not too young to travel so far?” asked Korag.  
“I will tell, under the condition that this does not fall into the public portion of the records, and this is not told to the press,”  
Korag nodded his promise, his quill down to signify the privacy of the next statement. Bargit leaned forwards to listen, shifting in his chair.  
“I returned now because my mother died when I was two. My father, recognizing he had access to the full fortune accumulated over the centuries, spent his time gambling away the family fortune. With no better option, I used the last of the family money to travel here, knowing that there is a massive fortune here, I have arrived now, in May, to have the time to fix up everything here, from finances to estates, and prepare for my official insertion into pureblood society and the general political scene.”  
“Well, I think my business is done here,” said Korag, being the first to process her stories, “ the lineage maps you provided us will be copied, the originals placed in our records once they have been proven, which, despite putting them as top priority, may take up to two weeks due to the international affairs, and your copies shall appear in your filing cabinet,” he nodded at the cabinet behind her.  
“The timing should not be an issue as you wish to release your presence at the traditional end of summer gala correct?”  
“Yes,” replied Bailey, “I plan to introduce myself to pureblood society by hosting the first of the galas.”  
“I’m sure we could work something out,” said Bargit, “we must be gentle with how we work with the political scene, however. I’m sure you have some ideas?” He asked.  
“Yes I have a few,” replied Bailey.  
As they spoke, Korag excused himself; the door closing behind him with a soft snap his only goodbye.  
“I do have some things I must prepare today, would it be at all be possible to work of the Estates and Politics of the situation tomorrow?” She asked.  
“Of course, the only thing we need to do now involves your Claim rings.”  
“Of course, I nearly forgot. How do I summon them?”  
She cursed herself for forgetting such an important part of her plan. The House rings were one of the most important things for a house. Traditionally held only by the Lord, Lady and the heir, it was a proof of heritage, but others may hold rings signifying their place in the House.  
“Place your hand on the center of the crest here,” he motioned at the center of the table, “and will the rings from your vault, it should recognize your magical signature.”  
Bailey followed his instructions, placing her palm on the crest, and imagining a pull from below. The crest glowed blue for a second, and then, in front of her hand rested two Sapphire rings on a blue velvet cushion.  
“The crest has the ability to summon nearly anything from your vaults,” Bargit explained.  
Bailey nodded, only half listening as she examined the first ring. It was an ornate silver band, woven to look like a twisted rope, and a single small blue sapphire placed in the center. It was, truth be told, quite simple.  
“You can it to be the crest when you need to seal something officially or need to show your heritage,” said Bargit, “they go on your left index finger. Since you currently hold both the position of Lady and Heiress, you should wear both, they will fuse and only show one.”  
Bailey slipped them onto the finger he had indicated as the goblin explained further. True to his word, they appeared only as one simple band.  
“This ring is a legal symbol of your lineage and should be protected as such. The ability to use it as a crest seal is another reason it should be protected.”  
“Thank you, sir,” replied Bailey, “Would it possible to withdraw some money from the vaults as well? I am in need of some money currently.”  
“Of course Lady Ravenclaw,”  
Bailey repeated the earlier process of placing her hand onto the desk and produced a small leather pouch. Upon opening it, she discovered it was magically expanded on the inside, and contained an extraordinarily large amount of gold.  
“I see the Ravenclaw business ventures have been going smoothly,” she remarked as she stowed the pouch into her robes.  
“Yes, the bank takes certain liberties at times to keep a house such as this at a respectable amount of riches.”  
“We shall go over those ventures tomorrow I suppose?” Asked Bailey.  
“Yes, of course, will 10 o’clock be appropriate?”  
“Perfectly so,” responded Bailey.  
“To enter your office, merely walk to the door in the hall and press your palm against it. It will recognize your rings magical signature and allow you to go directly to this office,” informed Bargit.  
“Thank you, sir, until tomorrow.”  
Bargit excused himself and left the office, leaving Bailey sitting alone behind the desk. 

Back on the bustling street, Bailey debated what to do next. First, she supposed, would be to get some robes to match her title and place in this new world. She headed towards the first tailor she saw, a shop called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. She entered to find an empty shop, alone broom sweeping the floor of its own accord behind a rack of robes.  
“Good afternoon Ma’am.” A woman had popped into place beside her, making her jump. A shock of platinum blonde hair fell to her waist, contrasting sharply with the fitted magenta robes she wore.  
“Afternoon,” replied Bailey, quickly recovering from her shock.  
“How can I help you today?” Asked the woman, looking her up and down with a look of barely hidden disgust. As much as Bailey hated that look, the one she was all too familiar with, that screamed, ‘You’re too poor for me’ she couldn't blame the woman. The robes she was currently wearing had been poor quality before they had been passed through many different families, and that exposure hadn't helped.  
“A full summer wardrobe of your highest quality please,”  
“A full wardrobe?” The woman faltered for a moment, it was obviously a highly unusual request.  
“Yes, I’d like at least one set of sleeping robes, and two for casual wear ready in two hours, I'll pay extra for those. The rest I expect in no less than three days.”  
The woman gaped at her, her mouth falling open. Quite unprofessional Bailey thought to herself.  
“Well, I don't have all day,” she added snappishly. The woman was getting onto her nerves. Just because she looked like trash at the moment didn't mean she was willing to be treated like it.  
“Ma’am, are you sure…” Her voice trailed off.  
“I am quite sure, Thank you,” said Bailey firmly, determined to not leave any room for argument.  
“An order like this requires pre-payment, and an extra fee must be added for the rush speeds,” the woman conceded.  
“Of course, that is acceptable.”  
Bailey was led to a counter deeper into the store. Behind the counter lay shelves full of large rolls of fabric, of all kinds and colors. There were moving patterns and ever-changing colors, fabrics of all kinds and qualities.  
“What would you like Ma’am?” The words drawing her attention from the fabrics, Bailey quickly launched into the list she had mentally prepared earlier.  
“Let’s see, I’ll begin with 8 sets of casual robes, all summer weights, 7 of those form-fitting and one of a loose cut, 6 sets of sleeping robes, again summer weight, two sets of formal robes, standard House robes. 8 pairs of pants, three button downs, 7 pairs of socks, and 4 full sets of undergarments. All of your highest quality of course,” Bailey listed off, the woman’s self-inking quill jotting down her order behind the desk as she spoke, “I expect to leave with one set of the casual robes, and pick up one set of sleeping robes and another set of casual by this evening.”  
“I will have to upcharge 10 galleons per rush item,”  
“Acceptable, as long as I can expect the full order done in a matter of three days?”  
The woman’s forced smile faltered for a split second, before she replied, “Of course,”  
“How much is the total?”  
Picking up the list, the quill now lying motionless on the counter, the woman ran her finger down the list, mouthing prices to herself as she did.  
“Your total, including the rush fees, comes to…” An audible gulp was heard. “117 galleons, 4 sickles,”  
Bailey kept her face emotionless, merely pulling out the leather pouch. She dumped a large pile of gold onto the table, and with deft fingers, began stacking the galleons into stacks of 5. A few seconds later, the last stack was created, 25 stacks covering the entire counter.  
“Keep the change,” said Bailey.  
She could have done that much more simply, as the pouch presented her with the appropriate amount automatically, but she much preferred the drama she had created. The woman’s face had been priceless. Her eyes seemed to bug out of her head, and she quickly swept the entire stack off the desk into the moneybox behind the counter.  
“Follow me, ma’am.”  
Her tone had changed Bailey noted, this woman could be swayed by gold.  
She followed the woman through a door, where she was instructed to strip to her undergarments, leaving her gold pouch on the floor beside her shoes, the dagger safely stashed away in her desk back at Gringotts. Her arms raised as a tape measure wound its way around her, measuring every inch of her body. A quill floated beside her, marking her measurements on a notepad. The woman began summoning rolls of fabric as the dress stands in front of her began to match itself to Baileys slim figure. Bailey knew she was underweight, and tall for her age, but hated seeing the mannequin shape itself to her body.  
“Now that is set,” remarked the woman, “We can talk about your fabric and design preferences.”  
As she spoke, a large fuzzy robe floated over and slid onto Bailey’s shoulders, the knot in front tightening itself into an intricate bow. She was gestured to sit in a large armchair that had drawn itself up, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits appeared on a side table. Money had its perks, Bailey decided, as she sank onto the chair and took a biscuit.  
The process of choosing fabrics was the quickest of them all, Bailey going directly for the simpler fabrics. Color, on the other hand, was much harder. Eventually settling on dark greys and blacks, with a dark green and a midnight blue as the only pops of color, Bailey left the woman tutting over how she preferred the dark and drab over the lime greens and brilliant purples she had originally shown her. She chose silver embroidery on the darker items, to show wealth and distinguishment.  
The only issue arose when they came to selecting the colors for her formal robes. They had to be Ravenclaw colors, as they were necessary when playing politics, and as she would later be doing, attending wizengamot meetings, but she didn't trust the woman not to blab to the press. Doing so would bring her even more gold, as the news was sure to lap up the information that a Lady for a Sacred house had claimed her position. She eventually settled on forcing the woman into a magic secrecy contract, something that the witch protested heavily to until Bailey agreed to come back when it was time to purchase Hogwarts robes. The amount of gold she had dropped on this purchase, combined with the promise she would return to spend more gold was enough to sway the woman into signing. Once the contract had been signed- nothing fancy, just something saying she wouldn't reveal the identity of her customer- Bailey informed her of her title. If her treatment had been bettered when she had given the woman gold, it was nothing to her treatment after. She ended up leaving with her formal robes in a dark blue, silver lining the interior, and intricate embroidery planned for the exterior. Her crest gleamed on the chest.  
She changed into a set of the casual robes, the only ones that had been finished when she left, with a request to send the rush items to the Leaky Cauldron under the name Bailey R. Ramsey and to return in 3 days to pick up the other items. The robes she had chosen was a set of dark grey robes, shimmering silver embroidered around the edges. They were a form-fitting set and fastened in the front with silver buttons over a lighter grey silk button down. Paired with a pair of black pants, Bailey looked every part to be worthy of her title. Her next stop was just across the street, to a store called Sir Sullivan’s Shoes.  
Grumbling about the ridiculousness of the alliterative names of the store, Bailey entered. A bell clanged loudly as she did so. A grey-haired man greeted her as she walked in.  
“How can Sir help you today?” He asked, bowing slightly. And sounding like a house elf, Bailey thought to herself as she responded politely. Even just the expensive robes were enough to be treated differently she noted.  
“I’d like to purchase several pairs of shoes, custom-fit please,” replied Bailey.  
“Of course, of course.” The man led her through several high reaching shelves full of boxes, to a cushioned bench. He gestured for her to sit down and remove her shoes, a battered pair she had also picked up at the second-hand shop. He measured her foot with a tap of his wand.  
“What would you like?”  
“To begin, a pair of dragon-hide boots, the highest quality you have, knee-high.”  
With a muttered incantation, the man summoned a dusty box from the top of one of the nearby shelves. He revealed a pair of black boots, with a three-inch heel, He waited for Bailey’s nod of approval before sliding it onto her leg, tapping the boot several times and muttering more charms as it fit her foot and leg. He repeated the process on the other side. Once both sides had been fitted to her feet he instructed Bailey to walk around and see what she thought. Once she had voiced her approval, he began to prepare a box, stopped by Bailey. “I’ll wear these out. I’d also like two other pairs, however, an everyday shoe, black, and a strappy stiletto, heel no less than 5 inches. Also black.”  
The man nodded. “Of course, and would you like the other two now, or for pickup later?”  
“Delivered to the Leaky Cauldron under the name Bailey R. Ramsey,” replied Bailey, following the man back to the front of the shop.  
“That will be 36 galleons for the boots, 46 sickles for the basic shoes, 10 galleons for the heels, and 13 sickles for the delivery,”  
Bailey handed him the stacks of gold, the pouch presenting her with the correct amount as she reached into it.  
As she walked out of the shop, Bailey caught a glimpse of herself in the window of a closed shop. With the expensive shoes and robes, she was beginning to look every part of her birthright. She scowled at her hair, however, long and dark, it had begun to tangle in the wind. Screwing up her face, Bailey formed it into perfect ringlets that fell just below the center of her back. Her metamorphmagus abilities were usually left unused, except to change her hair. She always enjoyed changing up her hair. Sill missing something she thought as she looked at her reflection. She concentrated again and turned the bottom half of her hair a brilliant blue. Her favorite color, it wasn't unusual to see her sporting blue hair, along with other unnatural colors. She stuck to dark colors though, preferring to stay out of the spotlight.  
Satisfied with her reflection, Bailey considered her options. Only three more stops she decided. It was roughly noon when she had left the bank, but due to the time she had spent with her wardrobe, it seemed to be nearing roughly three. Bailey strode through the masses frequenting the alley, entering a shop near the entrance of the alley. Ollivander’s was known widely to be one of the best wandmakers, certainly the best in Britain.  
“Who do we have here?” The man's voice was wavery, telling of his age, despite his strong actions as he leaped from a ladder.  
“Hello, Mr. Ollivander.”  
“You’re here to purchase a wand?”  
“Yes, sir,”  
“Well well well… firstly, who are you?” He leaned uncomfortably far over the counter, staring into Bailey’s dark brown eyes with his brilliant blue ones.  
“My name is Bailey Rose Ravenclaw, descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw.” Bailey felt a certain rush of pride as she spoke. In America, their family had worked under the surname of Ramsey, and it was a freeing feeling to state her full name to the ancient wandmaker.  
“A Ravenclaw. Curious.” The man’s face betrayed no shock at her statement, but his eyes gleamed excitedly.  
“Let’s see, how about… this one,” He reached up swiftly to catch the box that flew at him from the back of the shop, a cloud of dust following it.  
“Alder, and Pheonix, 10 ½ inches, slightly swishy”  
Bailey took the wand, only to be shocked with what felt like an electric shock.  
“No no no, definitely not,” He summoned another wand wordlessly from the back of the shop.  
“What about… Hawthorn, Dragon heartstring, 11 inches,”  
He passed the wand across to Bailey, who accepted it much more cautiously. She gave it an experimental wave, where it promptly released a load of black smoke and made a loud farting noise.  
“Not quite… This one, however…” He passed her another wand.  
Bailey took it gingerly, but even as she touched it, it grew pleasantly warm under her fingers. She waved it gently, as Ollivander nodded in the background. As she waved, however, a second wand box flew over to the counter. Ollivander looked just as surprised as she was, and he made no show of hiding it.  
“Interesting, that first wand is Beech and Unicorn hair, 9 ½ inches, unbending. But… in all my years, I have never seen this, only heard tales, but it appears you have been matched with two different wands. Go ahead now, try this one,” He passed her the second wand excitedly, banishing the failed wands back to their shelves with a wave of his hand.  
Bailey grasped the second wand, a show of golden light appearing.  
“It is so! Thank you, Ms. Ravenclaw, you have given me an opportunity to see this miraculous feat with my own eyes.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and Bailey had to strain to hear him. “I suggest you stick with the first wand, keep the second one hidden from prying eyes. And for the love of Merlin, do not register both wands. Keep one for your personal use.”  
His voice returned to a normal volume as he finished speaking. “The one you're holding is Elm. Dragon heartstring, 9 ½ inches, and very flexible. Keep it safe.” He handed her both wands, she stashed the first one, the Beech one she had already privately dubbed ‘the legal one’ in her robes, and the second one, the Elm one, into her boot.  
Ollivander looked on appreciatively at her acceptance of his advice, and shooed her out of the store, despite her repeated objections to being sent away with not one but two wands for free.  
She left the store finally, having lost the battle of paying, and decided she still had time for her last stop. Pushing through the crowds, Bailey slipped into a side street, hidden as a false aclove. A battered sign proudly proclaimed her location. Knockturn Alley. Bailey continued down the now nearly empty street, ignoring the leers she could feel, coming from figures hidden in the shadows. She stopped in front of a shabby shop, the sign above labeling it merely as ‘Nelly’s Items for All’. A bell tinkled as she stepped into the dark interior of the shop.  
“How can I help you?” A voice as smooth as silver rang out, the originator gliding out from behind a desk. It belonged to a particularly short witch, dressed in silvery robes.  
“I’m looking for a watch… a more… unique one than I think I could find elsewhere.”  
“For everyday use?”  
“Something that has some protections in place I think.”  
“And do you have the funds sufficient for such a purchase?”  
Shops here were no-nonsense. They didn't hide their desire for gold.  
“I have more than enough. With exceptional service, I’m sure I could bear to part with some extra,” Bailey replied in a not-so-subtle bribe.  
“Of course of course, what all would you like on this timepiece?”  
“Protection against blood Magiks, poisons, and compulsion or loyalty spells.”  
“That is a highly complex request,”  
“And it is not my only one,’ Bailey continued, “I’ve heard you have some interesting earrings for sale as well?”  
“Hmm… you seem to have heard a great number of things,”  
“I’m sure you know of a certain, Charlie Weasley? He saved your sister from a scrape back in Germany?”  
“Of course, Of course,”  
“I’d like both the watch and the earrings please,”  
“Such a large order requires more than gold I’m afraid, what's in it for me?”  
The woman truly did not try to hide her social climbing, and Bailey respected that. She could be a formidable force if she had more subtlety. She filed the information away for the moment and began to pace the interior of the tiny shop, debating if it was too early to show her hand.  
“Let me see the products first,” She said.  
The woman turned around and with a muttered summoning charm, fetched two dusty velvet jewelry boxes. The first one opened to show a silver watch, with a small black face. To all appearances, it was a basic watch. With a leering grin, The woman flipped it over to reveal runes, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the window, scratched gently into the chain links of the band. Bailey held out her wrist- her right wrist, despite being right-handed- and allowed the witch to lock it around her exceptionally small wrist, where the watch shrunk to fit perfectly.  
“Now do you deserve the other piece?”  
Bailey passed the woman a stack of galleons, which was graciously accepted by the witch. The second box was handed to her, and she handed the woman an extra stack of galleons. The woman’s eyes widened at the large amount of gold.  
“Please, ma’am, come back if you ever need anything else, anything at all,”  
Bailey smirked at the reaction.  
“Of course, until next time.” She swept from the shop.  
Outside, the shadows were lengthening. She strode purposefully from Knockturn Alley. Waiting until she was back in the crowds of Diagon Alley, Bailey stepped to the side and pulled the box from her pocket. The earrings were tiny sapphires, but she knew they would function as expected. Pulling her Elm wand from her wand, she put them on with a tap of her wand. There was enough residual magic that her magic couldn't be traced, and if asked to present her wand she could always present the Beech wand. So far her plans were working perfectly. Checking her new watch, she noted it was time to meet Charlie for dinner.

They met in a booth in the back of the Leaky Cauldron. Charlie nodded appreciatively at her new robes and boots. Noting her earrings and watch, he commented, “I see you met my associate. How’d it go? Nelly wasn’t too aggressive was she?”  
“No, it went well. I got the items you recommended.”  
“How’re they working?”  
“Well I haven’t had a chance to test them much, but the watch keeps great time,” Bailey joked. Being around Charlie was her chance. to let her guard down, and she embraced every moment of it.  
“You hungry?” Asked Charlie, changing the subject.  
“Starving actually,” replied Bailey, and made to head to the bar. She was pulled back by Charlie, and she found herself sitting next to him in the booth. His concerned eye pierced into hers intensely. She found herself admiring the orange flecks in his light brown eyes, so like both his red hair that he hated and the flames of the dragons he spent his time around. She was interrupted from her wandering thoughts of the irony of opposites by Charlie.  
“When was the last time you ate? I know you haven’t eaten since you arrived here this morning, you spent the last of your money on wizarding robes. You didn't eat the night before we left, and you couldn’t have had a chance while you were on the boat.”  
“Two days,” muttered Bailey, breaking eye contact and instead choosing to focus on the suspicious-looking stain on the fabric of the booth.  
“You idiot,” Charlie’s words were rough, but his tone was one of care. They had known each other for less than a year, but Charlie had taken the fierce young girl under his care.  
“I’ll eat now, I have the money for it now.”Bailey shrugged his hand off her shoulder and slid out of the booth, still avoiding eye contact.  
Charlie joined her at the bar, requesting the same as her, the ‘stew of the day,’ which he strongly suspected did not contain beef, as the sign read. Knowing the seedy reputation of the place, he suspected horse. They ate in pleasant silence, having seen each other that morning when Charlie had pulled some strings and gotten her onto a magical ship, one of his contacts, transporting a load of illegal plants, destined to one of the seedier apothecaries off Knockturn Alley. Once arriving, Bailey had apparated under a disillusionment charm into the heart of Diagon Alley, stopped at the second-hand robe shop to get some wizarding clothes, in favor of the muggle clothes she preferred back in America, and then headed directly to Gringotts.  
The claiming of her house was the easy part they both knew. The hardest part was yet to come, the political maneuvering between pureblood families. Charlie had detested all of the political pleasantries required in school, preferring to be direct. Straight to the point and often blunt, he was never politically suited. Bailey, on the other hand, he had realized, was the exact opposite. She had a way she twisted her words, saying one thing and subtly implying another, convincing someone they agreed with her when in fact they thought the opposite; it was an art, and Charlie loved to watch her work her magic. She was manipulative and never entirely truthful, but she did it well. In short, she was perfectly suited to the pureblood politics. He would enjoy watching her work he decided. It would be interesting to see her set the current political scene upside down as she entered it, and even more interesting to see her reemerge from the wreckage she caused, this time on top. The families would scramble underneath her to reset and claim their part of the new power cycle. Avoiding politics was fun, but watching it was more fun. Somehow, he had an idea that as she had shown him he could manipulate people with her words, she wasn't being entirely truthful with him in her plans. Charlie prided himself of being flexible, however and had decided it would be worth whatever she had planned for him to watch it all unfold.  
He was shaken from his reflections as he finished his stew by a question directed at him by Bailey.  
“Sorry hun, I was a million miles away, what was that?”  
Bailey sighed. “Don't call me hun, and I asked if you wanted to join me tomorrow while I go over everything that has gone on in the last several hundred years?”  
Charlie was shocked into silence for a second. To ask him to help her was one thing, but to be asked to sit in on a meeting was a huge request. Mind going a million miles an hour, he chose his words carefully as he responded. “I would, but I have a meeting with a few big buyers down in Turkey. Sorry hun, but I don't think I can reschedule.”  
“Okay then,”  
“Well,” Said Charlie as he slid off the bar stool, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Same place and time?”  
“Sure,” replied Bailey as she embraced him.  
“Night.”  
Charlie strode out of the bar before she could reply. Shaking her head, Bailey sighed. It was such a Charlie thing to do she found herself thinking as she ordered a second bowl of the stew. Definitely not beef she thought, as she took a bite of the steaming slop. The alliance had gone much further than she had expected all those months ago. She had dropped an anonymous tip to the MACUSA Agents after weeks of research on which smuggler to use to gain access to Britain, weeks of listening in shadowy corners of bars, using her metamorph abilities to look just different enough she wouldn't be noticed. She had followed them when they chased, Charlie being unable to apparate away due to the charm they had shot at him as they began the pursuit. She apparated juts in front of him as he turned down a dead-end alley, and side-alonged him to the courtyard that attached to the library. She hadn’t intended to remain in contact with him, but he had grown on her. She told herself she kept him around for his contacts, and the possibilities of convincing him to reclaim the Prewett House, but she knew otherwise. Those were just perks, not reasons. She pushed the thoughts from her head as she scraped the bottom of her bowl.  
“One room please, pay-per-night, as I’m not sure how long I’ll need it,” Bailey requested from the aged innkeeper.  
“No can do missy, pre-pay only,” he responded gruffly, polishing a glass with a rag so dirty it served only to make the glass dirtier.  
“How much is standard per night?”  
“1 galleon,”  
“I’ll pay double that the morning after,”  
He eyed her with great suspicion, clearly debating whether the doubled price was worth it, before grunting, “Room 17,” and passing her a large golden key. Bailey wordlessly slid an extra galleon across the counter and took the key.  
“I believe there are two packages for me as well? Under a Bailey R. Ramsey?”  
He passed two packages, both wrapped in brown paper across the counter.  
“Thank you, sir.” Bailey handed the man a second galleon.  
“Welcome ma’am,” he grunted.  
Bailey noted the difference in address as she followed a hallway leading past the bar. She climbed an oaken staircase, walking down the surprisingly well-kept hallway above the bar, and stopping in front of room 17. The room was furnished with solid wooden furniture, and a fire crackled merrily in the grate. Locking the door behind her, and noting the runes carved around the doorknob, that under a quick inspection appeared to be anti-theft and anti-unlocking charm wards, Bailey tossed both packages on a solid wooden desk and flopped herself on the bed. Staring at the ceiling for a second, she dragged herself up again. As tired as she was, she had to begin cultivating an appearance. Pulling out her elm wand, she stood in front of the mirror and cast cleaning and styling charms on her hair. She changed into the set of sleeping robes in the first package and hung the set of robes she had worn that day and the second set of casual robes on a rod by the door for that purpose.  
Tomorrow would be a new day she decided, and exhausted, she fell onto the bed and let a dreamless sleep overcome her. 

End of Chapter 1- Arrival and Preparations

Please note, this is a very lightly edited version. Feel free to comment and correct any inconsistencies or grammar/spelling issues!


	2. Goblin Meetings

Ch. 2- Goblin Meetings

Charlie was a caring soul, despite working with some of the most aggressive and dangerous of magical creatures. He reflected on this over the breakfast that Bailey had procured. She had left in the early morning, and returned later with several apples and a loaf of bread, sporting a few extra bruises on her face and arms. Charlie had thought about it, but decided it was better not to ask. He had been at the Ravenclaw library for a week now, and learned quickly that it was smarter to let her keep her secrets than to press and pry. Without the lightning-fast reflexes he had gained from dodging angry dragon-fire, he would have received a black eye multiple times. She was a force to be reckoned with, just like the dragons he tended to work with, but the difference was while dragons looked every bit as dangerous and aggressive as they were, with spiked tails and fangs larger than a man was tall, Bailey looked like a slightly skinny young girl. 

Magical Britain wasn't ready for her he decided. She hard voiced her plans to learn as much as she could about pure blood political society, then claim her House and play politics while attending Hogwarts. He had asked her how she planned to go to Hogwarts when the starting age was 11, not 12, as she was, and he had been dragged to a large section of the library containing books of laws, and shown a comprehensive book of Hogwarts by-laws. As it turns out, if someone moves into the country, they start at Hogwarts at their current skill-level of magic. So she would be put into first-year regardless. She had done her research, and had a plan. Charlie was slightly conflicted to realize that he was merely a part of her plan, but decided to work with it.   
Charlie was at first still skeptical, but after the first week he was sold on the little girl, that essentially kidnapped him. She showed him how she had taught herself basic wandless magic through the books, and how she had taught herself to apparate, if only to return to the library. She was powerful magically, and she had a firm grasp on her magic, rare at such a young age. He would help her learn the lifeblood laws and customs, while also learning them himself. He would smuggle her into Britain, and help her as an unseen ally behind the scenes once into politics. He had many connections to the darker side of the area, as a smuggler, as well as some international connections. Charlie had made a decision, and despite his displeasure at the idea of merely being part of a plan, he had realized how much of a political force she would be, and the benefits of such an alliance for him.   
“Bailey!” He called from the small table they ate at, where he was slicing an apple with a pocketknife.   
“Yeah?” Bailey emerged from behind a shelf several rows away, holding a thick tome.  
“I’ve made my decision.”  
She dropped the book, where it fell nearly to the floor, before the ambient magic of the room carried it to the shelf gently. The magic of the room was amazing, but he knew it would be foolish to even ask about it, as it was no doubt a Family Magic, and he wouldn’t be told anyways.   
“So. It only took you a full week. Yes or no?”  
She knew the answer, and he knew she knew, but he responded anyways.   
“Yes. I’ll help you.”

Present Day

Bailey woke early the next morning. She took a scalding hot shower to help her prepare for the day, before examining the second set of casual robes that she had rush ordered. They were a midnight blue, silver embroidery edging the robes in intricate patterns. She put them on, admiring the perfect fit. It seemed her random selection of tailors the day before had been fruitful.  
Pulling out her elm wand, she cast some intricate charms that she had learned from some books in her library on the robes, pleased with the ease she could cast them, despite all her knowledge being theoretical. She created magically concealed wand holsters inside both sleeves of her robes. The fitted cut of the robes made it slightly harder, but she practiced several times to ensure she could pull out either of her wands in an instant. The next task was to be performed on her boots. A modified version of the first, she created hidden dagger sheaths inside her boots. The over-the-knee boots were perfect, as she could reach the knives easily. She slipped the two daggers Charlie had returned to her the previous night into the sheathes. She had decided it wouldn't be smart to bring them with her in her tattered second-hand robes of the day before, and had entrusted them to Charlie and received a basic one in return. The daggers were beautiful, made with goblin forged silver and finished with rubies and emeralds respectively. She had found both in the Ravenclaw library and had trained herself to use them well.  
To finish her preparations for the day, she lightened the blue of her hair to sky blue and deftly threw it into a bun on top of her head. A distinct style, the messy bun was unlike the customary tight buns of many of the Ladies and Heiresses, but she preferred it. It was an open sign of opposition she realized, but she had long since realized she hadn’t returned to slip into pureblood society quietly. She was going to make a bang no matter how she returned, so she might as well return her way.  
Taking a deep breath, Bailey stood in front of the mirror and took one last look at herself. Until now, her time had all been spent working through carefully prepared plans. At some point, however, the plans had to end. The meeting with the goblins today was uncharted territory, and truthfully she had no idea what to expect. As she walked downstairs she wondered exactly what state the accounts would be in. She had spent ridiculous amounts of money since leaving the bank, but she wasn't worried about that. As a founder’s House, Hogwarts would send parts of its income directly to the Ravenclaw accounts. Money itself wasn't what she was worried about, but the state of her estates, the business ventures, and what exactly was in the vaults. She sat down at the nearly empty bar, waving down the innkeeper and sliding him three galleons for the room and ordering an iced black coffee. The properties of the founder had, at one point, no doubt been vast and had many castles and manors, but it had been centuries since anyone had even looked at them she was sure. She sipped her coffee as she thought about those properties. They were one of the things she was most concerned about. She needed somewhere to live full-time, even if it wasn't year-round. There was the possibility if a property had a large enough house-elf population, they could still be around, generations old, but there was no guarantee. She knew the goblins would do maintenance when it was requested, but she had no idea how long such a task would take. She finished her coffee and checked her watch; finding it was only nine, she ordered another cup. 

Another issue would be business ventures. There was no way the House could hold active sections of businesses, as there was nearly nothing that had lasted long enough to still exist, so she would likely have to build up a stock portfolio from scratch. That wouldn't be easy, as she had no idea of the current market for business ventures. It would be safe to gain stocks in some of the major associations, but even then she had to meet with some of the heads of businesses to buy some and work on deals with them. She would have to approach individual companies to make business dealings, and it would take time and appointments. Many larger houses gave land to apothecaries, or sponsored research or things of the sort to work with businesses, but even that relied on talking to people, and appointments must be made, and the goblins must be consulted. She also would have to be public ally aligned with her house at this time. Everything seemed to return to a need to consult with the goblins and plan once she had more knowledge. 

As she finished her coffee, she checked her watch again. It was nearing 9:30, and she decided it was time to go. She walked into Diagon Alley, working her way through the early morning crowds. Despite the early hour, the Saturday crowds were busy. She weaved her way through a group of old witches debating on cauldron prices, only avoid a pair of wizards, both with beards down to their chests debating on the latest quidditch results. She entered a dusty shop, the silence almost deafening after the crowds outside. A plump dark-skinned witch greeted her cheerfully from behind the counter. The shop was stocked with tall shelves going into the depths of the shop, each shelf containing massive rolls of parchment. A few rows over, the shelves contained stacks upon stacks of ink bottles. Bailey wove through the shelves curiously, examining the seemingly infinite types of ink. She continued over a few more rows, before coming to one that appeared as if it had suddenly sprouted feathers. The shelves on both sides were filled with quills of every variety and color imaginable. Self-spelling quills, dictaquills, self-inking quills, peacock quills, ostrich quills, the options were endless. She walked down this aisle, pausing to examine the massive quill of the harpy eagle, and to check the price of a remarkable quill that appeared to be of pure gold. She finally selected a basic falcon quill with a semi-flexible nib and proceeded to the next aisle. This one was filled with inkwells, many of exaggerated designs. She paused to examine one, an intricate dragon that paced its shelf impatiently, glaring at her as she continued past it. She chose a black stone inkwell, charmed to be anti-spilling and portable with the touch of a concealed panel on the back. It promised to be easily color switchable with another touch of a different panel, it could hold up to three colors separately. Now that she had selected these, she continued back the way she came, heading back towards the inks. There was a great variety of inks as well. Color-changing inks, sheening inks, shimmering inks, it seemed endless. Combined with the many colors, the aisle resembled a rainbow. Forcing herself to avoid getting distracted, Bailey spent several minutes choosing between two shades of dark blue, settling on a shade named Midsummer Midnight over Deep Sea Blue. She selected a basic black, as well as a dark grey. Arms full, she proceeded to the counter, where the woman was filling owl order forms. Clearing her throat, Bailey placed her items on the counter.

“Will that be all for you today?” The witch asked, smiling at her.  
“I also need 25 feet of basic parchment please,” replied Bailey.  
“Of course,” 

The witch waved her wand, and the nearest roll of parchment unrolled itself, rerolling into a neat roll as it went. A red ribbon wound around the completed roll as it flew towards them, landing neatly on the counter. Bailey counted out the coins and accepted the bag the woman handed her. Stepping out into the Saturday crowds, Bailey checked her watch again. Time to head to the bank or she would be late she realized.

The bank was fairly busy as well. She strode down the carpeted center of the room, counters on both sides filled with busy goblins and chattering patrons. She reached the back wall, placing her palm against the door, directly on top of the plaque describing the room as the House Offices. The door pulsed a light blue, and the doorknob transformed into a bronze raven. Bailey entered the room. The room stood as she left it. The great wooden desk in the center of the room, bookshelves and cabinets lining the walls behind the desk. Bailey settled herself behind the desk, filling her inkwell and placing it in the right drawer. She put the quill in the intricate quill holder on the desk, jumping slightly when the bronze raven looked up at her. She placed the roll of parchment on the rod in the left drawer so that it could be fed out as needed. Opening the center drawer, she found it already stocked with clips and blue ribbons, as well as sticks of blue and bronze wax for seals. Satisfied she was prepared for the meeting Bailey relaxed slightly. She was nervous about the meeting but knew it was necessary. She had to know the status of her accounts, then she had to speak with the goblins about the politics of the house. All in all, it would prove to be a mind-numbing day. She checked her watch, more out of nervousness than any real desire to know the time, and found it was a minute to 10. She glanced at the door, only to find the portrait of Helena smiling down at her. It would seem that she would have an ally during the meeting Bailey thought to herself. The door opened at that moment.

The goblin seated himself across from Bailey. The door closed itself behind him, and Bailey saw the faint glowing of rune-based privacy wards flash across it. The bank took no risks with the safety of the Houses. 

“Greetings, Lady Ravenclaw. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bargit, Goblin of the Sacred Ancient and most Noble House Ravenclaw and holder of the esteemed House Accounts, at your service.” He bowed in his chair, and Bailey had a sneaking suspicion his feet were not touching the floor. She stifled a grin at this though however, and finished the second half of the formal greeting and introduction.  
“Greetings Goblin Bargit of the Sacred House Ravenclaw.” She dipped her head.   
“How may I help you today?” Bargit asked.  
“I need a full explanation of the current business ventures, the properties and the accounts of the House, as well as political advice.”  
The goblin shifted slightly. “Of course, Lady Ravenclaw, what would you like to begin with today?”  
“Let’s begin with the properties, and their current statuses,” 

The goblin waved his hand wordlessly and from the cabinet behind her flew sheets of paper. They settled in stacks in front of her. One stack flew directly into tthe hand of the goblin. Bailey took a sheet of parchment from the drawer to take her own notes. Bargit, checking to make sure she was ready, cleared his throat and began reading.  
“In order of most recently added: The Properties of the House Ravenclaw: Huntinghurst Manor, Archdale Villa, Bilesworth Castle, Mastervale Sanctum, Bloodmoon tower, Citadelle de la Poiseau, Hopeshire Manor, Cloudwood Harbor, Ardiham Castle, Cloverwood Cottage, Eagleview Palace, Fortresse de Chanin, Hazelwood Estates, Ironwing Castle, Mistwood farms-”

Bailey interrupted him. “How recently have those been added?” A suspicion that something wasn’t right was nagging her about those names. They all seemed modern, far too modern to be names from centuries ago.  
“All those named so far have been added to the Ravenclaw portfolio in the last 70 years,” came the goblin’s reply.  
“How?”  
“It became a tradition that when a witch or wizard severely disliked their heir or partner, unless otherwise directed by a contract, they would give their properties to the founder of their Hogwarts house, to avoid them falling into the hands of the next person. It was also common to donate them to Merlin as well. Typically to a house believed to be long lost that the person had some connection to without being related to. Many of those with no magical relatives to give their assets to would also do this in their wills to avoid it being repossessed,” explained Bargit.

Bailey’s mouth fell open, and she narrowly avoided knocking a stack of papers off the table as her hand jerked. “So people just gave their assets and properties to House Ravenclaw?”  
“Yes ma’am,” replied Bagit, “In many cases when they felt that no one owning these properties was better than whoever would have gained it.”  
“How many properties do I have in total?” Asked Bailey, still slightly shocked.  
Bargit examined the paper, “Three hundred and thirty-seven, along with a quarter of Hogwarts and its grounds,”

Bailey was shocked into silence. She blinked at the goblin, mouth hanging open slightly. She quickly recovered, thinking to herself. If she had all these properties, she would have no issue with any of her plans. It would be considered beyond rude to return any of the properties to the families they came from, as it would be an insult to the deceased that had bestowed the properties upon the House.   
“How many are in livable conditions?” she asked.  
“I cannot tell you that, although the Ravenclaw elves may be able to do so.”  
“The Ravenclaw elves?”   
“Yes,” replied Bargit, shuffling through another stack of papers. Finding what he was looking for, he began reading it to her. “The Ravenclaw elves are in charge of all Ravenclaw estates, with the exception of any being leased to another magical family, unless otherwise directed by the current Master. Ravenclaw elves are encouraged to visit Hogwarts for anything needed while the Master is in Absentee or otherwise unavailable.”  
“So the elves are keeping all of my properties. Interesting,” mused Bailey to herself thoughtfully, scratching a note on her parchment.  
“If you wish a detailed report on the properties, I would recommend calling the head elf,” said Bargit.  
“I think I will,” said Bailey. She turned her chair sideways so she was no longer facing the desk. “I call, as the Lady Ravenclaw, the Head elf of the Ravenclaws,” she said loudly and clearly. Before she could even catch her breath however, a house elf was leaping at her, and had grabbed her around the legs, squealing in excitement.

“Mistress has returned! Mistress has returned! Misty has kept the other elves doing what they is supposed to do! Misty has continued her mother’s role and her mother’s role and her mother’s role in keeping the other elves and waiting for Mistress to return and under Misty Mistress has returned!” The elf, dressed in two faded blue tea towels knotted into a dress, jumped around the room, ears flapping with the force of the jumps. 

“But Mistress has called for Misty, Misty is not a good elf if Misty keeps Mistress waiting, Misty must help Mistress with whatever Mistress needs!” The elf finally calmed down enough to stand before Bailey, smiling with amusement at the elf’s antics.   
“What can’s Misty be helping Mistress today?”  
“Misty, can you tell me which of the Ravenclaw properties is small enough for just me to live there and recent and well-kept?”  
“All properties under Misty is well-kept. All 337 of them,” responded the elf, fidgeting with the fraying hem of her tea towel. “The smallest of properties is possibly Cloverwood Cottage, or Bloodwood Tower, both added in the last 35 of years,”   
“Can you tell me more about those two?” asked Bailey. She glanced at Bargit, to see how he was doing while she was dealing with the elf, and saw him shuffling with an ever-growing stack of papers coming from one of the cabinets behind her, no doubt linked to the Gobin’s records.   
“Cloverwood is a small cottage donated by a mans who hated his wife, it is by the Haverton Forest and the muggles village of Haverton. It has a smalls garden, and is kept by three elves,” explained the elf, “And Bloodwood Tower is by the Lake of Roxian. It has a large parts of the lake and surrounding forest with its, and is kept by seven elves. The witch who donated this one had to gives all her things to her son, everythings but her home.”

Bailey thought for a second, and made her decision. She didn’t fancy the idea of a cottage, especially one near a muggle village, and the tower sounded interesting. 

“I will move into Bloodwood tower as soon as the elves can have it furnished and prepared,” she informed the elf, who appeared to vibrate with excitement.   
“Mistress is callings Misty if Mistress needs anythings? Misty can have the tower elves ready in one days,”  
“That's perfect Misty, can you come and tell me when it’s ready?”  
“Of course Mistress!”

The elf disappeared with small pop. Bargit looked on in amusement.   
“I wonder how long its been since that elf has seen a human,” he remarked.  
Bailey laughed. Just watching that elf bounce off the walls had made her tired. She checked her watch and was surprised to see they had already been there for two hours.

“Well let's not wait, we still have a lot to cover,” she said.  
“Yes, let's discuss the business ventures,” the goblin replied.

They discussed the possibilities of arranging meetings with various business owners to work out business dealings, perhaps funding potions research,, or providing lands for apothecaries. She had a steady flow of income from Hogwarts itself, as they sold excess from the greenhouses and the like, as well as things produced by the magical creatures on the grounds. The current potions master was also providing regular potions shipments to St. Mungo's it seemed. All money gained from ventures such as these gave a small percentage to each founder ‘for tradition’s sake’. As a result, over the many centuries, she had amassed a remarkably large amount of gold. More than enough to keep up with her excessive spending if she was being honest. A few hours later she had prepared 23 letters, to be sent out to some of the smaller business owners around Diagon Alley. Each one was sealed with the Ravenclaw crest, from her ring, and wrapped with royal blue ribbon. 

Bailey paused, suddenly realizing an issue with her current plan. She had to move in the shadows if she wanted to be revealed at the end of summer galas, hosted by various pureblood families. Voicing her concerns to the goblin across from her, he paused in stacking the letters into a neat pyramid on the desk.

“It seems you may have to alter one portion of your plans,” he mused, “either the reveal, or the more mundane of the House tasks.”  
Bailey drummed her fingers on the desk as she thought, absent-mindedly stroking the head of the animated raven quill stand. It preened under the attention.

“What if I made my ventures now, letting the rumors begin to flow, and then introduced myself to society at the Mid-summers Galas instead?”

“That would be an acceptable plan,” said Bargit, “but you would almost certainly be required to throw an end of summer gala.”

Bailey hummed as she thought. The requirement of hosting a gala was the reason she had been planning to delay her introduction.   
“But that would give me more of an opportunity to go to Wizengamot meetings publicly before the start of term. You must check the laws relating to attending government meetings during the school year,”

Bargit nodded, and made a note of his own on a sheet of parchment, and summoning a large book from the shelf behind her. The desk was beginning to look as if a tornado had whipped through a library and dumped every sheet of paper on one area. Stacks of papers were balancing precariously on piles of scrolls on every part of the desk. As Bailey shifted a stack slightly, sheet of parchment brushed against the quill holder and the tiny raven sneezed. Despite the seriousness of the issue she was currently facing, she couldn’t help but smile. The little figurine was growing on her. Before she could tell herself to keep from getting too attached, she had decided on a name for the little creature. The tiny, animated bronze quill holder was now to be named Nova she decided. 

“Nova,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. 

To her surprise, the raven blinked up at her and unwound itself from the quill holder, leaving a simple bronze holder behind, her quill still safely standing in it. Nova was no bigger than her palm, and the bronze had tarnished slightly in the years she had spent sleeping in the office. Glancing up towards the goblin, still flipping through the book of Hogwarts related laws, Bailey used one finger and a whispered spell to clean the figurine. The wandless magic came naturally to her, practiced for years in secret with the help of ancient texts on the subject. Now shiny, the raven climbed across her arm and snuggled itself into the pocket of her robes. It seemed she had just gained herself a pet Bailey realized. 

Distracting her from the raven, Bargit began reading from a passage in the book, completely oblivious to what had just gone on directly in front of him.

“As Wizengamot meetings occur on either Saturday evenings, or Sunday afternoons, to allow for older heirs and heiresses to attend meetings with the heads of Houses, in the rare instance of a Lord or Lady being in school, they are allowed permission to attend these regular meetings. They may be apparated by their head of house to and from the location, In the case of emergency meetings occurring during classes, levels five through two are not serious enough to necessitate a removal from classes. In the case that the meeting is called after classes or during a meal, the student may request their held of house to transport them to the meeting, provided they return for classes. In the case of a level one emergency meeting, cases described in section 3 subsection 67 of the book of Wizengamot laws, the student may leave classes. Any missed meetings for school related reasons will have express owls sent with a transcript of the meeting in question within one hour of the meeting’s close,”

“So it is completely reasonable to be active in politics while at school.” Bailey wrote a note on her parchment, replacing her quill in the now empty looking quill holder. 

“Yes,” Said Bargit, “And a few pages over, it describes the conditions for a temporary regent who can take control of you sets only when you cannot be present.”  
“That could also be useful,” she commented.

“So have you made your decision? The midsummers galas will begin being held in a week. Judging by your preliminary status, you must attend at least four.”

Bailey thought for a moment. “I will present myself at the midsummer’s galas. I’ll attend the closest Wizengamot session before that, which is…”  
“Tomorrow evening,” supplied Bargit.

Bailey merely sighed. She had hoped for some time to relax in London before jumping head first into politics, but it was unavoidable. “Send out the business inquiries,” she instructed.   
Mostly aimed to smaller shops in Diagon, she would have to see about visiting some of Knockturn Alley to work with some of the shops over there.

Almost seeming to read her thoughts, Bargit asked the one question that had been hanging in the air since their shift to discussing politics. “Are you going to reintroduce as light or dark?”

The division as pointless in Baileys opinion, no magic could be dark without intent. Now whether or not she had that intent was another question, one that didn’t factor into her political opinions. She debated the question, one the one hand Light would be safer, easier to control, but Dark would be more powerful.   
“Let’s stick with a darker grey,” she said. 

The truly grey houses could be counted on to stay neutral in most debates, but a darker-leaning grey house wouldn’t stir up the political factions too much. She would have to begin forging alliances with both light and dark houses at the Gala, and as such she would have to decide which ones to attend. 

“Let’s make a list of the four galas to attend this year,” said Bailey. There would be 7 galas, one every day for a week, each time hosted by influential families. The invitations were sent politically, and as such she was sure to get invitations to all of them. They would be a terrible bore she was sure. Several hours of polite small talk, dinner and dancing, all with a political undercurrent so strong it was liable to rip you right off your feet without the utmost care.   
“That would be a smart idea,” nodded Bargit, “as you plan to reintroduce as a grey house, it should be at least one light house and at least one dark.”  
“Who are running the major galas this year?”  
“This year I believe the major ones are the Malfoys, and the Greengrasses,”

Bailey made a note on her parchment. “So that’s a dark and a neutral, what other major houses are hosting?”  
“I think you should choose two out of the Longbottoms, the Notts, and the Macmillans,”  
“If we’re going for a darker grey than I think the Nott gala should be one,” said Bailey, making another note.   
“So for the light it’s between the Longbottom and the Macmillan,”

Bailey contemplated for a second, thinking out loud as she tried to decide, “The Longbottoms are more influential overall, but they only have two members as of right now. The Macmillan’s have a large web over the Light families. I think the Macmillan gala should be the fourth, as we don’t want to look like we are only attending the Longbottom’s gala to form an alliance. It would be smarter to relate to the larger web of Macmillan’s as of now.”

Bargit smiled, or at least as close to a smile as the scowl the goblins wore would allow. “It seems you have done your research, despite being across the ocean. I won't push as to your hidden allies, but it should prove to be interesting watching you cut into the political scene.”

Bailey allowed herself to slip into the political persona she had prepared, and with a small smile and a slight bow of her head, she commented, “Why thank you Sir Bargit. It shall prove to be enjoyable having you as my House representative, assisting me in all the political maneuvering necessary in the soon-to-be tumultuous waters of the political society.”

Bargit smiled now, a real grin, if at all slightly evil-looking. “Yes, very interesting.”

Bailey merely grinned, dropping the political persona and changing the topic.   
“So what are the themes for the galas and what days do they fall on?”

“The Greengrasses gala is the first as the major gala, on the coming Tuesday and its theme centers around the sea, the Malfoy’s is Wednesday, and its theme is florals, the Notts is Thursday, and its theme is fire, and the Macmillan’s is the last on Thursday and its theme is nature,” Bargit read form a calendar he had pulled from thin air, “the other three galas you will not be attending are the Longbottoms, Parkinsons, and the Abotts.”

Bailey wrinkled her nose at the themes of the balls. Bargit, seeing this laughed. “Better than the themes of the winter balls. I believe the Malfoy’s last year centered around hospitality.”  
She shuddered at this, thankful the spring and end of summer galas were not themed. 

“So the first gala is in three days, and at least one of those days will be the wizengamot meeting. It’ll take at least half a day to get fitted for my gowns, and they still must be made,” mused Bailey.

“Yes, unfortunately, if you wish to work at all with businesses and work on any sort of major political agenda at the same time, you must be present at least once at a Wizengamot meeting before the gala season. Unless you want to wait until the end of summer, this is your only opportunity.” Bargit stared at her pointedly, almost daring her to try to push it back. He could sense her obvious reluctance to dive into the politics so soon, 

“I suppose you have a valid point. I’ll call for a rush tailor to visit me at the Leaky tonight.” Bailey checked her watch. It was nearing three in the afternoon. She was shocked to find that she had been conversing with the goblin for almost five hours. They had missed lunch. “Do you have anything you think I should know before tomorrow’s meeting?”  
Bargit thought for a moment. “I assume you have Family robes?”   
“I’m picking them up today,” she replied.   
“Well then, I believe we are done here, for now,”  
“Yes, it seems so. You will have the business ventures sent out tomorrow after the meeting?”  
“Of course.”  
Bailey rose from the desk as Bargit waved his hand, sending all the papers back into the filing cabinet. As she rounded the desk, Bargit rose, and they shook hands warmly.  
“I will be free at any time you wish to discuss anything with me. Until next time Lady Ravenclaw.” Bowing low to her, he turned on his heel and exited the room. Waiting for a second, Bailey followed him, finding herself back in the main hall of the bank.

As she found herself back on Diagon Alley, Bailey debated her next steps. The tailor would be the most important she decided. She needed to pick up her robes for the next day and get some gowns for the galas. She headed towards the tailor she had visited the day previous. She had no time to find a more prestigious tailor, and anyway, she had been happy with the tailor’s work.  
She stepped into the shop, only to be greeted by the same woman. The witch had her long platinum blonde hair pulled into a ponytail today, and a set of flowing lavender robes.   
“Lady Ravenclaw,” The woman fell into a curtsey, dipping low respectfully.  
“Greetings, Madam,”  
“Your entire order is ready, if you could just follow me-” She was cut off by Bailey.   
“I’m actually here with another order. Please excuse my timing, but I need four dresses to the mid-summers galas.”  
The woman faltered slightly. “The midsummers galas are next week.”  
“I understand, but there was a change in my plans. I am fully prepared to pay double for such an intricate rush order. I also would like the jewelry and shoes for each dress.”  
“Full sets?” She visibly gulped, and let them to a sitting room off the main shop.  
“I wouldn’t have come to you if I thought you couldn’t handle such a major order, but I suppose if you can’t make the dresses for my introduction into pureblood society, I can find another-” Bailey began, but it was now her turn to be cut off.   
“Of course I can make gowns for such prestigious events. What are the themes of each gala?”  
“Florals, nature, fire, and most importantly, my debeau gown, sea.” Bailey had to actively fight to keep the smugness from entering her voice. A small bit of manipulation, and the witch was going along with her every request. “And for the shoes, no heels under five inches please.”  
“Of course, now will you be keeping your hair… as it is?”  
Bailey’s response was to pull her hair out of the bun, and change its color to a pastel pink.   
“Just tell me how I should color and style it, and it will be done.”  
The woman brightened visibly at the thought that she would be able to work her hair intro part of the looks, as Bailey returned it to a shade of blue and pulled it back into a bun.  
“So, what styles are you looking for?”  
Bailey paused, barely concealing a scowl from her face, “Just whatever you believe will be most flattering.”  
“Of course, and you have no other requests?”  
“None at all, besides the dates that they must be prepared.”  
“Will you be pre-paying?”  
“I think I will pay upon pickup, so as to give you more leeway with the materials and jewelry. I expect only the best, and give you permission to work with any jewelers or shoemakers you find necessary. Put MM on the tags if you would.”  
“Of course, of course.” She shuffled through the pages of a book she had summoned, each with different designs, from what Bailey could see.  
Bailey thought for a second, and made her decision.   
“You do have other workers at this shop don’t you Madam Malkin?”

The woman looked up, startled at the unusual question, “Yes, I do. I only work personally on the most expensive of orders.”  
“If these galas go well for me, would you consider a job as a personal tailor?” Baileys voice was level and calm, portraying a false wariness, as if she expected the tailor to deny, to say she needed to focus on her shop. But Bailey had examined the shop carefully on her two visits. Racks upon racks of orders ready to be picked up, premade clothes ready to be bought, even a wide selection of muggle clothes. The woman’s business was flourishing, with very little help from her at this point. She would gladly take the opportunity. Bailey had no qualms about accepting the woman to be her personal tailor either. Her work was high-quality and quick, and she had found she quite liked the result of her last shopping trip here. She had a mind that if she found she liked the woman’s gowns enough, she would be able to introduce her to the high-society world as a new designer. Having a new designer under her resources would prove beneficial for the both of them.   
The woman’s eyes widened. “If you wish it, I’m sure my business could run quite well without my constant presence.”  
“Very well then. We will discuss this further after the gala season.”   
The woman nodded. “I can have all four full looks completed for you by tomorrow evening. Your previous order is also complete.”  
“Thank you Madam.” Bailey accepted the brown-paper wrapped package the witch had summoned for her, and swept from the room.

The next stop was a dearly-needed one. Slipping down Knockturn alley, she ignored the shadowy figures peering at her from shadowy nooks, probably debating whether it would be worth it to rob her and drug her senseless.Her grip tightened around the base of her Elm wand, the less legal of her pair.  
She should probably have stopped here yesterday she realized, as she entered a small, dingy looking shop. The inside of the shop was cozy-looking, decorated in warm reds, the walls lined with shelves. Each shelf was crammed with trunks and bags of all kinds. From tiny purses, to massive trunks. She passed by all the shelves, coming to an empty counter. She gently rang a small silver bell, and almost instantly, a young man appeared from a back room. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a glint in his eye that spoke of mischief.   
“How may I help you today Ma’am?”  
“I’d like to purchase a custom seven-room trunk, under a rush-order,”  
The man’s grin faltered for a split second, before he pulled it back up. “Why of course, just fill out this order form.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a rather thick booklet. He passed her a self inking quill from a jar on the counter and ventured for her to sit in an armchair by a merrily blazing fire. She hadn’t even noticed the small sitting area beside the counter. It was quite charming she noted as she sat. The rug was a deep maroon, and the chair was soft and well-worn. 

She looked through the booklet, finding it full of lists of features and checkboxes by each one. She began by checking the rooms she wanted, going section by section. First a bedroom was necessary, as she planned to be traveling quite a lot. She checked an option for a queen-sized bed, a full walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a full shower. She selected a dueling room, complete with a track and space for broom training, a library, as she had found ways to link the Ravenclaw library to a trunk of this sort in her years exploring the Family texts, and left all of the options blank for this. She selected a ritual room, and a potions lab, making sure to go all out for these. The last room she selected carefully, deciding on a garden. Flipping to the decorations, she marked the option to have it themed toward her Family. That would mean light blue walls, deep blue accents, bronze everywhere applicable, and her family crest everywhere. She selected a lighter cherry wood for the flooring and furniture. Glancing over her selections so far, she went back and added greenhouses to the garden, and a heavily-charmed storeroom to the potions lab. The total price was going up remarkably as she ticked box after box, but she wasn’t concerned. Having a safe place she could be comfortable no matter where she was more important than the price to her. Deciding she was satisfied with the interior, she moved to the wards and the more exterior of the trunk, the part that could be used as a basic trunk. The wards she selected were the most complex of wards, not just the basic fire-protection and the like. She selected blood wards, nastier wards geared towards those attempting to gain access without her permission, and other, less-legal wards, including ones that would hide Dark items from wards designed to find such items, and ones that masked all magic use inside. She added feather-light charms, charms geared towards shrinking and portability, and strong false transfiguration charms for when it was necessary to hide it. Satisfied by the layers upon layers of wards, ranging from basic to highly illegal, she turned toward the exterior of the trunk. She selected a dark leather exterior, accented with blue, and the Family crest embossed into the leather. The fittings on the trunk would be of bronze, as well as the selection panels that allowed her to select where to enter. The truck would also open and function as a normal one. It would be of the Ministry maximum expansion size, having seven compartments that could be switched between by panels on the inside. She would have two for books and school supplies, three for clothing, one for jewelry, shoes and accessories, and the last one as a standard storage compartment. Storage in her hidden rooms would be more than sufficient for anything she wanted to hide, but just to be safe if she needed to have quick access to something she didn’t want it to be public knowledge that she owned, she added a hidden area in a false bottom in the general compartment. With a last check of the available options, she selected some charms that would keep her clothes wrinkle free and clean when packed away, and ones to make sure all of her expensive jewelry would be safe. She made sure charms were in place her books and school supplies wouldn’t get messed up in any way. A final glance through confirming her options, and she finally looked up, searching for the young man to return the booklet to.   
The man was sitting across from her, calmly reading a book, with tea steaming cheerfully beside him. Bailey was slightly surprised at herself she hadn’t noticed the man sit down, but quickly pushed her concerns to the back of her mind, merely telling herself to pay more attention next time. She cleared her throat lightly, prompting the man to look up. He carefully placed a ribbon bookmark into the book, putting it away too quickly for Bailey to catch the title.   
“Are you done ma’am?”  
He accepted the booklet as the quill, glancing through at the options she had selected. His face remained forcibly neutral as he did so, only twitching slightly as he read over the decor options and saw where she had written in her family name. He continued flipping through the pages, the only other reaction a slight raise of his eyebrows as he saw the wards she had selected.

“Well, it seems all of this is in order ma’am- or should I say Lady Ravenclaw,” he rose from his seat and bowed to her, “Jesse Rowle at your service.” He flicked his wrist slightly, and Bailey saw a ring appear on his left middle finger, the finger an Heir would wear his family ring.  
Bailey quickly racked her brains, as he sat back down, trying to remember where the name Rowle was familiar. Charlie’s voice drifted back to her, quizzing her on the pureblood families. He was heir to house Rowle, one of the only active Sacred houses. They were known as a Dark house, but tended to vote neutrally.  
“Greetings, Heir Rowle,” She dipped her head respectfully, “my apologies for not greeting you earlier.”  
Her remark was waved away by the Heir, already slumped down on the chair again.  
“Please, none of the stuffy pureblood stuff. You haven’t announced your presence yet, so you obviously aren’t used to it either. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to follow customs, so at least right now while no one else is around, just act normal. And please, call me Jesse for now”  
“As long as you call me Bailey,” responded Bailey as she slumped down slightly.  
“Of course Bailey,” was his response, “Now, about the trunk, when do you need it by?”  
“As soon as possible,”  
He was flipping through the booklet again. He paused, coming to the page on exterior features.   
“Hogwarts standard size? You’re school aged?”  
“I’m twelve actually, but going into first-year in Hogwarts.”  
“Oh, my brother is going into first year this year. I could have sworn you were somewhere around 17,” he commented, returning his attention to the booklet.  
Bailey sat there in silence for a moment as he finished looking through the book.   
“Well, I think I can have this finished by Monday night, provided you can stop by tomorrow to key into the warding system.”  
“I can stop by sometime after the Wizengamot meeting, if that’s alright with you,”  
“Of course, I’ll see you there Bailey,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Bailey was walking to meet Charlie at their arranged time for dinner, still thinking over the interesting interaction she had just had. The shop wasn’t strictly dark, but its use of illegal expansion charms on trunks and wards classified as dark put it in the depths of the Knockturn Alley area, a few streets away from the main street that gave the area its name. The Rowles were one of the more private houses, despite being one of the most influential. They almost never threw the galas or balls that the influential houses threw at specified points during the year, but they often went to them. They were generally glossed over as being a dark-oriented house, as they had not publicly participated in the last war, but it was rumored that they had aligned themselves with the Dark Lord, despite not being particularly active. Another interesting thing had been the speed that the Heir- Jesse, she corrected herself, had promised the trunk to be completed by. It was an exceptionally complex order, and she had expected it to take roughly two weeks, not two days. He had also requested she call him by his given name, at least in private. She hadn’t bought the whole ‘drop the pureblood customs’ he tried to put upon her. They may have dropped the general pleasantries, but she had noticed the way he held himself, and the formal manner he had continued with. He was raised in a Sacred House, and they were playing the political game the whole time. He was asking for a loose alliance, more of a way to ensure they wouldn’t fall into place as enemies, than a true alliance when he asked her to call him by his given name. The Rowle family was powerful, but so was the Ravenclaw, and she suspected that the Lady Rowle would be pleased by how he had reached out to her. 

She met with Charlie in the still-busy Leaky Cauldron and discussed the happenings of the day over bowls of suspicious-looking soup. Halfway through her description of her plan to introduce Madame Malkin as a designer, Charlie’s nearly choking on his soup laughing about the pureblood’s reaction when they discovered who MM really was, her house-elf popped into the booth with them, Charlie now nearly dumping his soup into his lap, saved only by the elf’s lightning fast reflexes.  
“Misty is sorry, Misty apologizes,” The elf’s dark blue eyes were wide with concern, but Charlie brushed it off.  
“It didn’t even spill, really I’m okay,”  
Bailey quickly distracted the elf, by asking what it was the elf needed.  
“Misty has come to tell Mistress that Blood Moon tower is ready for Mistress.”  
Charlie cocked his head and looked at her questioningly. She hadn’t gotten around to telling him about the property situation.   
Teasingly, Bailey asked, “Hey Charlie, want to help me move?”   
Charlie laughed. “Let's go upstairs and get your stuff. I want to see this place.”  
As they went upstairs to gather her stuff, just the shoes and the robes she had sent to the room earlier in the day, Bailey explained the property situation. By the time they had made it back into Diagon Alley so they could use one of the apparition points, Bailey had explained much of the financials, the properties, and how she planned to reintroduce the next day. 

The house elf grabbed their hands, and with a ‘pop’ and a feeling of being squished through a tube, they were apparated away from the bustling street.

End of Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

> Only mildly edited- not final draft level, so if you notice any inconsistencies or grammar/spelling errors, please don't be afraid to tell me! Reviews are helpful and appreciated, so feel free to drop any ideas or theories. Thank you for reading!


End file.
